


i'm the white wall swallowing the window frame

by viscrael



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Free Verse, Gen, Manga Spoilers, POV Second Person, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:16:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4435145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could a second messiah emerge from the wreckage of the first?</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm the white wall swallowing the window frame

**Author's Note:**

> what even is this  
> who know [shrugging emoticon]

It was easy at first to say that you believed him to be a heretic

All the evidence pointed to it, after all, so it only made sense for that to be the truth of the matter; he was the Fourteenth, an enemy, a danger to the Order,

Or so all the information had said, and you’d always been one for factual sense, so you had no reason to question otherwise, and you’re only job was to watch him, observe him,

But somehow _watch_ turned to _watch over_ and getting answers was pushed to the back of your mind in lieu of the quiet that followed; he was too polite for his own good and just a little bit eccentric, an odd kid that was just that, still a kid, and you were weary at first

Was he meant to save the Order or destroy it?

Could a second messiah emerge from the wreckage of the first?

You didn’t know, but you were just doing your job

He was four years younger than you, which felt odd to say when he got a look in his eye like that of someone with years and years under their belt, when he stopped and sighed and thought too hard like he’d been mulling over some kind of wisdom that only came with age

And he mumbled a lot, in his sleep at least, but they were never full words; syllables and vowels and the beginnings of things that would never be given meaning

And when he woke, he smiled like he hadn’t been having another bad dream, _good morning_ , getting ready for breakfast like his sleeping lips hadn’t formed something close to _Mana_ for the fifth time that week

He didn’t like you

That much you figured, since you were there on account of him being accused of heresy, and you couldn’t say you wouldn’t have felt the same way about someone constantly following you around

You were intruding, you knew, but there wasn’t much you could do about it, even with how little you wanted to be there

His friends were unorthodox, but then again, you couldn’t expect them to be anything else of someone like him, and they seemed to have an odd sort of harmony that fell around the group until you showed up; you saw it in their expressions; they didn’t want you there

You didn’t want to be there either

But it was getting harder to believe he was evil

Everyone had evil in them

This wasn’t news to you, and you knew that even you had some, hidden, lock and key, shoved back into corners of your psyche and soul to hopefully never be tugged at or noticed, but not everyone was like that; some wore it on their sleeve, under the roof of their mouth, in the veins in their wrists, over the lift of their ribs

Everyone had some, but not everyone was consumed by it

An evil man did not care for the well beings of others and an evil man did not consider himself evil

An evil man did not battle with himself to keep the evil down

He was battling

You weren’t sure if it was an act or a trick or if was genuine, but you watched him struggle, try to come to terms with it; watched him see himself be turned into the one thing he hated the most

But an evil man did not look with such despair when thinking of himself as the Fourteenth and an evil man did not cry when he did

An evil man did not claw at his throat, hoarse, hoarse, let me out, let me go,

An evil man did not lay out a rosary and let the damned souls be saved, did not care about evil in such a pure way, did not shed tears for those who’d gone over, did not tug at the martyr’s robes,

An evil man did not smile so sadly, did not apologize so sincerely,

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry_

 


End file.
